Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
by Pryotra
Summary: AU After Voldemort murdered King and Queen James and Lily Marak, the Wizarding World was run by the Ministry. Now, ten years after Voldemort's defeat at the hands of Dumbledore, charity case Harry Potter and his friends stumble unto a plot and many lies.
1. Of Harry

_This is my first story, so please no 'cute' comments. I really have been thinking about this, and I hope that everyone likes this. There will be a lot of differences in this story. I'm not going to tell about my little twists and turns, but don't expect a whole lot to stay the way it's supposed to. After all, this is an AU._

_There will be no slash in this or any other stories. Pairings are nonexistent since everyone is eleven years old._

_I do not own Harry Potter and I never will. _

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_Knock knock knock_

They all heard it, Harry Potter thought, feeling annoyed. They just didn't feel like answering. The Dursleys, Harry's foster family were the most conceited people in the world. They didn't care that someone was waiting at the door. What did it matter to them that it might be important. Why did they care if someone had died or the police were looking for some murderer.

The knock sounded again. Obviously, who ever it was, didn't feel like going away.

Vernon Dursley, a large, beefy man with a bushy mustache, glanced up from the paper. He looked at his son, Dudley, a fat, blond boy who was currently trying to stuff some more bacon down his throat. Petunia, a small, bony, horse faced woman glared at Harry as though daring him to ask for more.

Harry knew that Vernon and Petunia were very proud of their son. He had been accepted into Smeltings, some fancy, expensive school that Harry would never be able to go to.

Harry was an orphan. He had been found in an alley after a massive gas explosion by a young woman doing her shopping. He had been taken to the police, who had put him in a foster program after naming him, Harry Potter, after an alphabetical system. He had been almost immediately fostered by the Dursley family of number 4 Privet Dr. This was mostly because the family needed some extra money, and the government paid people to look after foster children.

Harry's life was hardly 'good' he lived in the cupboard under the stairs, was treated like the servant, and was constantly told that he should be 'grateful' for all their kindness. Harry sometimes wondered if he were just a freak the way the Dursleys told him, but he just couldn't believe that.

It wasn't his fault that strange things happened to him all the time. He hadn't tried to end up on the school roof while hiding from Dudley and his gang during their favorite game, Harry Hunting. It wasn't his fault he had somehow turned that teacher's hair pink. It wasn't even his fault that Dudley had fallen through the glass at the zoo. No matter how strange something was, it was always Harry's fault, even when there was no logical reason for why things happened.

But the Dursleys simply seemed to hate him. They didn't even seem to remember that today was his birthday. All well, Harry sighed, no presents was better then that pair of Uncle Vernon's socks.

When he was younger, Harry would dream that some unknown relative would appear and take him away, but after a while, Harry had come to grips with the fact that nothing would ever happen in his life, and he simply wasn't that important. Some people just lived dull, quiet lives. Harry knew that the moment he turned eighteen (and no more money was to be gained by fostering him) Harry would be kicked out. Hopefully, he would be able to get a job.

He sighed into his tiny bowl of oatmeal and didn't look up when the knock sounded again. After all, it wasn't for him.

Harry didn't have any friends. This was mostly because that Dudley and his gang didn't like Harry, and no one in school ever disagreed with Dudley's gang. It might also had been because he came to school in Dudley's old hand-me-downs, which were five sizes too big for him. He had lived his live alone, and would most likely die alone unless some miracle came and saved him.

Every night he would look out at the stars and wish for that miracle, Harry didn't remember where he had first heard about wishing on a star, but it was something he just did. He didn't even really believe it anymore, but it was pretty much the only thing that he knew how to do.

The door was silent now. Whoever it was must have decided to give up.

"You, boy," Vernon said coldly to Harry,

"Yes?" Harry asked warily.

"You better find something to do tonight, Patunia, Dudley and I are going to a nice restaurant, and you aren't coming."

Harry sighed, "yes, sir," he mumbled.

"Good, now clean this mess up. We have to go out and get Dudley his school uniform. There is plenty to work to keep you busy."

Harry's life stank.

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The Dursleys left right after breakfast, and Harry was giving more work to do then he thought that he would ever finish in his life. He leaned, sweating in the July heat, over Petunia's garden. One day, he promised himself, he would 'accidently' pull up one of those prize winning roses, and say he thought it was a weed. Then he would walk up to Dudley and tell him, with a straight face, that he looked like a pig in a wig.

Harry dug a little harder into the dirt then he had intended and almost got his spade stuck in the dirt. With a groan, Harry leaned by and looked up at the sky. As a large owl flew by the roof, Harry blinked. Since when had owls been flying around in broad daylight.

Harry stood up and watched it fly by. He squinted and noticed that it seemed to be holding something. An odd feeling of anticipation shot through Harry and he took one unconscious step forwards. With an effort, Harry returned to her weeding, but somehow it didn't look quite as much work as it had.

The rest of the work seemed to fly by at a surprising pace. Harry normally worked slowly, knowing that if he finished before the Dursleys returned, they would just give him more work to do the next time. Harry sometimes wondered just how they managed to come up that much work. Did they just sit around the house and wait until they had to go something to make Harry do anything. Harry looked at the dustpan in his hand with surprise, hadn't he just been vacuuming? He shrugged and looked out the window at the setting sun.

With a smile he put away his cleaning supplies and put on his jacket. The Dursleys wouldn't be home for a while now, so they wouldn't know that he had gone out. If he was murdered or something, and his body was draped over a swing or something, the Dursleys would only be upset that they wouldn't be getting anymore money.

The cool air felt good after all the work and the falling darkness made it impossible for anyone to see him clearly. Harry locked the front door after him, more out of fear that he would come home to some maniac in the house then getting robbed, and set off down the street. He liked to hang around the playground when he got a chance to get away, and he wanted to do something to celebrate his eleventh birthday.

"Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me," Harry sang softly under his breath as he walked, watching the stars appearing in the sky.

The playground was completely empty. Harry wasn't surprised. He sat down on the sand and slowly began to draw a cake for himself. Once his eyes hurt and he had to blink had to see, but he fought the tears down.

"Make a wish, Harry," he whispered to himself.

'I wish…I wish…I wish that someone would take me away from this place. I wish I had someone to talk to. I wish that I was important. I wish…'

"Ey, what'er you doin' here?" a voice cut through Harry's thoughts.

"Huh-what?" Harry looked up to see the biggest human being he had ever seen.

The man must have been at least nine feet tall. He was wide and dressed in a huge overcoat that Harry could have used for a tent. The shoes he was wearing made Harry think of young dolphins, and his face was almost covered in a long, matted, tangled, black beard that might have been some form of animal living on his face.

For a second Harry just stared.

"Who're you anyways?" the man asked.

"H-Harry Potter," Harry stumbled out, not thinking to lie.

In the fading light, Harry could see that the man was smiling. He leaned down and looked at Harry hard. He seemed to be thinking about something. Then he squatted down and looked at Harry face to face.

"I've been lookin' fer you," he said.

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When the Dursleys returned, they found the house well lit and a pot of tea on the stove. They also found Harry talking to a nine foot man that he called Hagrid.

"So, I'm a wizard," Harry said for the fifth time, "really?"

"Yeah, really," Hagrid said with a smile. He had decided that he liked Harry, "Haven't ya even done somewhat when you was scared or angry?"

"Well…yes," Harry said thoughtfully.

"That'll be magic," Hagrid told him.

The Dursleys chose that moment to come home. For a moment all three of them simply stood in the hallway of the house with their mouths slightly open. Then they started to move. All three of them ran over to where Harry and Hagrid stood, and then started to move their mouths silently.

"Hi," Harry said with a very bright smile, "This is Hagrid! He's the game keeper of a magical school. He says that I'm a wizard, and I'm going to study there and learn to cast spells!"

Harry was enjoying this. Hagrid had already told him that he was going to go whether the Dursleys wanted him to or not. It was simply fun to watch their mouths open and close like hyperventilating fish.

Vernon started to bluster.

"Just who do you think you are," He huffed, "Do you know that you're breaking and entering?"

"Nah, I'm not breakin' and enterin'." Hagrid said shaking his head, "Harry here let me in."

"What do you think you're doing, boy," Vernon fumed.

"He's goin' ter come with me to Hogwarts," Hagrid informed him, obviously missing the fury in Vernon's tone, "I've been sent ter pick him up, an' before yer start talking about prices, the school's got a fund for special cases like 'im, and yer won't have ter pay a thing, but yer won't get ter see him til next summer."

Harry could see Vernon working the logic in his mind. He was a very transparent man, and whenever it was evident that something about Harry was going to cost money. Here was a chance to get rid of Harry for most of the year, without paying for him. Harry could practically see the wheels turning around in Vernon's head. Having Harry go to this school would make him happy, which was something Vernon had been fighting against for years; however having Harry go to school would get him out of his hair. Not to mention he would not have to pay for Harry's food.

Vernon narrowed his eyes at Harry in a nasty way and smirked. He seemed to be pausing for dramatic effect.

"Alright," he said, "as long as he's out of our hair until next summer."

It was the best birthday present Harry could have wished for.

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_Arg, I hate writing for Hagrid. The guy can't talk._

_Finally done with this chapter. I hate first chapters. Nothing ever really happens in them. I don't even get to introduce the new and improved plot! As you can see, I'm kinda pathetic with plots._

_Please review and tell me whether it's any good or not. _

_Review!_


	2. Of Robes and Wands

_Second chapter. I've had so many ideas for this story, and this chapter, I'm going to introduce some of the main characters. I like this story. It really interests me._

_I'm sorry that this took so long to update, I haven't been sure I wanted to continue this for reason's of my own laziness, and not being sure I had enough ideas to keep it going, but I'm going to give it a shot._

_By the way, I'm going to make a point right here. I don't like dark/evil Harry, but I find Slytherin Harry interesting. I also don't like Ron Weasley or most of the Gryffindors. Keep this in mind while reading this story. If you like Ron or any Gryffindors other then Fred, George, Hermione, and Neville, I wouldn't recommend this story to you. _

_Another point: this story will have one Original Character as a main. She will not be paired with ANY canon main character. I don't like Mary Sues. _

_Once again, I don't own Harry Potter. If I did…well, it would be like this story…only better._

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Harry looked at the Leaky Caldron in disgust. When Hagrid had told him about a magical alley where he would be getting his books and supplies, an old bar was not really what he had had in mind. For a while he just stood there, staring at it. Finally a pat from Hargrid sent him back to reality.

"This is it," the giant man said happily.

"This is it?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"Yep, behind there's the entrance to Diagon Alley. I'll have ta leave ya though, Hogwarts business, sorry, 'Arry."

Harry wasn't all that surprised by this news. He had had the feeling that he would be going alone. Harry was used to being alone. In fact, it would have been awkward for him to be with Hagrid anyways. He assumed that he would find what he needed without any help. Besides, it didn't seem that Hagrid was in the mood to actually tell Harry anything about the new world he was in. All he knew was that he was a wizard and was going to a special school.

"I'll be fine," Harry assured him, "I'll find my way around."

Hagrid led him inside and had a quick talk with the barkeeper, Tom, who looked at Harry sort of like some one would look like a slug and nodded to Hagrid. Hagrid told him that he would be staying at the Inn for the rest of the summer and that there would be a taxi that would pick him and any other people staying at the Inn up and take them to the station. He also gave Harry a ticket and told him not to lose it. Harry noticed with interest that it was for something called Platform 9 ¾.

After receiving his key from Tom, who looked like he'd rather give it to Attila the Hun, Hagrid led him into the back through a door that looked like it was about the fall down if Harry closed it too hard.

Using a flowery pink umbrella, Hagrid tapped on a brick on the wall that closed off the alley. Harry stared with delight as the bricks turned into a wall changed into a large doorway that led into the most interesting street that he had ever seen.

"Alright, 'Arry," Hagrid said, giving him some letters, "Ya give these to the shops where ya buy yer books, wands, and equipment, and they set you up with some of their second hand stuff."

"Yes, sir," Harry said politely.

"Bye, Harry," Hagrid said with a bright smile, or what could have been a bright smile, it was hard to see under the beard, "I'll see ye at Hogwarts."

And then he had walked back into the Leaky Caldron leaving Harry to wander around and try to manage to get all of his equipment without getting lost and/or finding trouble. Harry was good at finding trouble. All he had to do to confirm that was to remember the one time his math teacher's hair had turned a lovely, vibrant shade of hot pink.

Harry sighed and walked into the alley. The first thing that he noticed was that he was conspicuous. Everyone else seemed to be wearing black robes other then a few, very lost looking people including him.

Harry decided that the first thing that he was going to have to do was get some of those robes, even if they did look more like dresses then anything else. Looking around, he noticed a small shop with a sign hanging over it that read: Madam Malkim's Robes for All Occasions. Harry shrugged and walked up to the door, but before he touched it, it someone from inside opened it.

He was a tall man, with long white blonde hair that was tied into a pony tail. His black robe seemed to be billowing in the light breeze, and he looked at Harry as if he were something slimy and unpleasant that had turned up at the bottom of his very expensive looking shoes. Harry looked up at him nervously, but the man looked away and walked past him into the street. Harry had a feeling that it wasn't the last time he was going to see him.

He opened the door and looked in. A plump woman with a pleasant enough looking face was bustling around a boy around Harry's age with white blonde hair that instantly made Harry know it was the son of the man who had just left. The woman looked over to him and walked over.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked kindly.

"Um, yes," Harry said hesitantly, "I have a letter…"

"Oh," the woman looked disappointed, "There's a rack over there for you to chose from."

With that she turned back to the blonde boy.

Harry walked over to the rack that had been pointed out to him and stared at the robes. To say that they were old would have been to compliment them. They looked like they had seem some better centuries, and a few of them seemed to be actually decomposing right in front of him. Harry slowly reached out and tried to sort through the robes without accidentally causing a hole in one of the robes and having to take it with him

"You don't intend to sell that do you?" A sneering voice asked.

Harry turned around to see the other boy had come over to look at the robes. His face was twisted into a look of complete arrogance and selfishness. Harry almost took a dislike to him instantly, but decided that if he was helping him, the least he could do was not hate him on the spot.

The woman turned around and began to look slightly uncomfortable.

"Well, Mister Malfoy, you see…" she began.

"My father spends a great deal of money on that charity program," Malfoy said coldly, "The least you could do is give him something second hand not…how old is this anyways?"

Malfoy picked up one of the robes on the hanger and stared at it.

"Be careful," Harry muttered, "If you look at it too hard, it might not be able to take the pressure."

Malfoy snorted.

A piece of lint that might have once been an arm fell off.

Harry and Malfoy stared at it and then each other.

"Why don't you come over to the second hand robes, dear," the woman said uncomfortably.

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After choosing some of the least worn out robes, Harry left the shop with Malfoy right behind him. Harry turned around to face Malfoy, who looking at him with curiosity. Harry noticed that the arrogance on his face was gone.

"Um, thanks," Harry said, feeling stupid.

"Don't mention it," Malfoy said, "It was kind of fun to harass the old bat. She does that to every single charity case who ever comes into the shop. I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Harry Potter," Harry said.

"Muggleborn?" Malfoy asked. Harry wasn't sure if it was sneering or asking an innocent question.

"Um, what?" Harry asked, completely confused.

"It's what Wizards call people without magic," Draco said with a shrug, "Did your parents have magic?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Harry said, "I don't even know who they were."

"Oh," Draco said.

At least he managed to look somewhat embarrassed if not particularly apologetic. He looked around the street as if looking for something to change the subject to. Finally, he looked back at Harry.

"Where are you going next?" He asked, once again his tone was hard for Harry to read.

"Er," Harry said, looking at the letters.

Someone called Mr. Olivander was on the top of the list of letters, so Harry assumed that he might as well go over to him.

"Someone called Olivander," Harry said at last.

"Mother was looking at wands there a few minutes ago, but father had some business that he wanted them both to do, so I might was well come with you," Draco said with a shrug, "Mother was being ridiculous anyways. I'm the only one who can choose my wand."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Simply that every person has to choose their own wand. One Wizard's wand won't work for another one,"

"Is there a reason?"

"Not really,"

"So it's just there to make life harder?"

"Pretty much,"

Harry nodded, "That makes sense."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "If you say so…Olivander's is this way."

Harry and Draco set off silently down the path. For a while both of them were quiet, but finally Harry spoke as they past a dimly lit Owl shop and the clean white building that had a sign that said Gringott's Bank in the front.

"So, was that your dad?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded, "He's not going to be happy when he finds that I've associated with you."

"Didn't he come up with the 'charity' thing?" Harry asked.

"That doesn't mean he wants anyone in his family to be anywhere near one. My father only gives money to the program because it makes his voice better heard in the Ministry," Draco told him, "The only reason I'm not saying the same things as him is because I spent too much time alone with the library or with my mother's sister Andromeda. She married a Muggle, and some of the things that my cousin shrieked at me last summer while she was levitating me back by ankles started to stick. But I'm not stupid enough to tell my father I disagree with him on most issues."

"So you just do things behind his back?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded grandly.

Harry refrained from saying that there wasn't anything great about sneaking behind people who you were afraid of to get what you wanted. Draco struck him as being quite spoiled and wouldn't have taken to having his wonderful ideas attacked, and Harry didn't want to lose his guild.

The two stopped at a small shop with a sign on the front that said in spidery writing: _Olivander's, Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC_. Harry blinked at the sign, feeling somewhat impressed. Draco didn't even look at the sign, but walked in.

The shop was old and dusty and very dark. There was a coldness that emanated from somewhere that Harry couldn't put his finger on, and when his eyes became used to the darkness, he saw that the shop was crammed with long, thin boxes. There was a window in the back of the shop that was letting in own, thin beam of sunlight that struggled to light the shadows of the room. Some of the boxes looked like that had been there since 382 BC with all the dust that had collected on them.

There was another boy there as well. He was tall and dark, with high cheekbones and strangely slanting eyes. The haughty way that he conducted himself reminded Harry a great deal of Draco. Harry began to think that that was just how Wizards acted. The boy looked up when they walked in.

"Malfoy," he greeted in a calm, even tone.

"Zabini," Draco said back in a slightly smug tone.

"Who's that?" Zabini asked.

"Harry Potter," Draco explaned, "I met him in Madam Malkims."

Zabini raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything more, there was a noise from the back of the shop and a small man walked into view.

Harry's first thought was that this most be the original Olivander from 382 BC. There was no way he could be younger then that. The next impression was that there was no way he could be human. He had yellow eyes. Harry just stared while the old man walked up to Zabini.

"I have just the thing. Rowan, Twelve inches, Unicorn hair. Give it a feel," the man said.

Zabini took the wand and several multicolored sparks shot out the end.

The man smiled and nodded, seeming to be very pleased with himself, and told him to pay twelve Gallions, whatever they were, for the wand. Zabini fished in his pocket and pulled out a fat purse, counted out twelve large gold coins and gave them to Mr. Olivander, but he didn't leave. He leaned against the wall, and watched Draco and Harry get their wands.

Draco was a fairly fast choice. After being measured by the magical measuring tape that Harry didn't see a point to, and telling Olivander that he was right handed, Draco was offered about ten wands. He finally claimed a thirteen inch ebony wand with Dragon heartstring. Draco looked pleased with himself until Zabini muttered something under his breath that Harry didn't catch. Whatever it was, it made Draco glare over at him.

Finally, Harry gave the old man his letter. Olivander looked it over with a bored expression, and didn't show any of the enthusiasm that he had shown with Draco or Zabini.

"Do you know anything about my shop?" he asked in a tone that said he wished that he didn't have to even bother.

"Not really," Harry said, feeling dumb.

"Well, every wand I make has a core of one of three things: Phoenix feathers, Unicorn hair, and Dragon heartstring. We also use many different types of wood," he said in a dull, monotone voice.

"I see," Harry said, hoping to hurry the conversation along a little.

"Good," Olivander said shortly, "hold out your wand hand."

Harry held out his right hand and an old, dusty wand, that looked like the cheapest in the shop, was shoved into his hand.

Nothing happened.

Olivander looked decidedly disappointed, and shoved another into his hands with the same affect.

After about fifteen minutes. Zabini and Draco were starting to be interested, and they apparently had started a bet. Harry had heard Draco say quietly, "Three Sickles on the most expensive wand in the place," Olivander seemed to be near livid. Apparently he had wanted to shove the least expensive wand in his hand and be done with him. Finally, he seemed to take on a new strategy. Being that he was going to obviously have to part with one of his more expensive wands, he was going to start from that direction.

"Eleven inches. Holly and Phoenix feather, a rather unusual combination," he said in a way that made Harry know that he was holding the most expensive wand in the entire shop.

There was sudden warmth in his fingers as his hand grasped it. With a quick flick of his hand, a large gold and silver spark shot our of the wand and exploded into multicolored lights.

Harry distinctly heard Draco's voice saying, "Pay up,"

Olivander rushed Harry out of the shop, muttering about the best wands and charity cases. He put the wand in it's new box so hastily that the wrapping in the box was ripped. Harry didn't say anything for fear that Olivander would just turn him out without the wand.

Draco and Zabini walked out of the shop, and Harry followed. He didn't look back until the shop had disappeared along the narrowed streets, so he never saw that the door had remained open and the Olivander had watched him go.

"Curious…it's just like…" the old man muttered to himself, "I wonder…"

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_Well, at least it's a longer chapter. I'm going to try to put the next one up as soon as possible. I'm sorry again that this took so long._

_Another note: I didn't really buy the fact that people can become best friends on sight. Most people I've been friends with, I've been very cautious of, and since Harry has been kind of abused by the Dursleys and such. I would think that he would be extremely cautious of everything._

_About Draco: I didn't want him to just decide that there was no difference between Muggleborns and Purebloods. He's open to the idea. That's why his tone is so unreadable. I don't want to have complete personality rewrites. _

_If you have any suggestions or complaints, please tell me so that I can work it out. And to all those people who put me on their alerts without reviewing: I promise I don't bite, tell me what you think!_

_Please review. _


	3. Of Histories

_Haha, I'm working on this again. I guess I'm getting excited about the release of the seventh book (I like the predict the death of the character who will die. I'm always right!) so I'm writing again. _

_As a note to everyone who is reading this, and I know people are reading this, review won't you? It's rather upsetting to see that there are two hundred so people reading this, and almost no one is taking the time to review. _

_Anyways, I'm more stubborn then that, so here we go._

_I don't own Harry Potter of any of its characters._

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"So, Zabini, where's your mother?" Draco asked.

"On a romantic holiday with Number Three. He's starting to look a little sickly, so I assume that he doesn't have much life left," the boy said in a cold, bored tone, "It was his fault. I told him to have parties, but he insisted on having her all to himself…well, now he has her…for now."

"What's going the happen?" Harry asked uncomfortably.

Zabini drew one finger across his neck without a word.

"Happy thoughts," Draco said uncomfortably.

Zabini looked at Harry with a bit of interest on his face, "So, you're Potter, I don't know that name, but then again, I never really cared whose name I knew and whose I didn't. I'm Blaise Zabini."

"Well, Blaise," Draco said, immediately switching to his first name as they rounded another corner, "Do me a favor: when my father comes, allow me to tell him that you met him."

Blaise rolled his eyes.

"I don't see how that helps you," he said, "you're still hanging out with him."

Draco smirked, "But you're the one who started hanging out with him, so he's your friend."

Harry listened to the conversation, not really understanding what was going on. From what he could see, Draco seemed to be terrified of his father, and Blaise knew it. Blaise seemed to find it somewhat amusing, and didn't bother to hide it. Harry started to feel somewhat more at ease with them.

"So, when did you learn that you were a Wizard?" Blaise asked, he didn't sound all that interested really, he just seemed to want to move the conversation along.

"Yesterday," Harry said shortly.

"What?" Draco and Blaise said together.

"This guy called Hagrid came and told me," Harry supplied.

"Hagrid?" Draco burst out, "I heard he's a sort of savage…sometimes he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I don't think he's that stupid," Harry said, "He was nice, but he didn't tell me very much."

"Much?" Blaise asked.

"Anything," Harry admitted.

Draco looked over at Blaise.

"Oh, we have so much work to do," he sighed.

Blaise shot a dark look at Draco.

-------

Things didn't quite turn out to be as much work as Draco had seemed to think. They agreed not to talk about history immediately, and focused on Hogwarts, the four houses, personality traits for all of them, classes, teachers, and some of the more interesting things about the school.

Blaise seemed to know a lot about the secret passageways, and Draco filled in details on interesting little subtopics.

The rest of the shopping seemed to go by fairly quickly. The apothecary accepted the letters with distaste, but there was little that they could do other then give Harry a used caldron. After all, no one supplied used ingredients. At Flourish and Blots a Wizarding bookstore, someone seemed to have set of a foul smell thing that Blaise called a 'dungbomb'. It sent evil smelling green vapor all over the room, and the attendant didn't bother to even look at the letters before handing Harry, Draco and Blaise a pile of books, and shooing them out. At the another small store that sold broomsticks and weird little balls that Draco told Harry were used to play some sport or other Blaise had to pretty much drag Draco away from the display of the Nimbus 2000.

"But I want that broom," Draco said angrily.

"Too bad," Blaise muttered, "You know the rules, First Year: no brooms."

After shopping was over, Blaise and Draco decided that they wanted to have ice cream. Harry didn't have any money but didn't say anything. He didn't want to have to beg or even ask Blaise or Draco for money. He just sat there while the other two talked, but they had seemed to have already assumed that he wasn't going to ask since they ordered three sundaes.

"Well, that's over," Draco said with obvious relief

Blaise shrugged.

Harry was too busy looking at a small plaque on the wall near him. It was old, maybe as old as the alley itself, and mold was slowly growing over it. No one seemed to remember that it was there, finally he asked what it was.

"That's a memorial to King John Marak V," Draco said, almost like it was a lesson, "He ordered that Diagon Alley be built."

"You have your own king?" Harry asked.

"Had," Blaise put in, "they got killed."

"What?"

Draco got a look that showed he was going to enjoy this and leaned forwards conspiratorially. Blaise rolled his eyes, but leaned forward as well.

"You see," Draco said softly, as if he didn't want anyone to hear, "until ten years ago, there was a royal family, the Maraks. They had ruled us for centuries, and we actually were doing fairly well. The Maraks had more power then the Muggle king does, we never had a Mega Cart-"

"Magna Carta," Blaise interrupted.

"Yeah that," Draco said with a shrug, "Well, there was a wizard who wanted to be the king instead of King James. He had been waiting for an opportunity for a long time, apparently. Then King James married a Muggleborn named Lily, and he became really unpopular with most of the old and respected Pureblood families."

"Including yours," Blaise cut in again.

"And yours," Draco muttered, "Anyways…this person was called a Dark Wizard and-"

"Say his name," Blaise said.

"Would you quit interrupting?" Draco burst out, "His name was…" he leaned further down so that no one but Harry and Draco could hear it, "Voldemort, and don't repeat the name. It'll start a panic. Most Wizards are still terrified to say anything other then You-Know-Who when they talk about him. Before he tried to kill the king, he and his followers had been killing anyone who opposed them. No one could find out who they were or where they were going to strike next. Even the king's Aurors didn't know. Then, after the king married Lily, things started to get worse. Some of the old families began to openly state that they were against him, and when rumor had it that there was an heir born, things got even worse. Wizards don't declare an heir to the Marak family until they graduate from Hogwarts. The student will be given another last name, and they are always named something common like James, Will, or something like that. Then on their graduation, they will be declared the future king. Then the prince gets to enjoy the looks on his friends faces and smirk at his old enemies. It really helped to keep down persecution against Muggleborns. You never could tell who was the prince or who wasn't. They didn't even officially announce the birth. There would just be rumors. So, when there was a rumor about a heir being born, most of the old families went into hysterics. They refused to allow some Halfblood to rule them. That's how You-Know-Who suddenly got a huge following. On Halloween ten years ago, You-Know-Who attacked the castle, killed every living thing in it, and burnt it to the ground. Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, found him standing over the corpses of the royal family. The two of them dueled, and You-Know-Who was killed. I suppose he must have been tired already from fighting the king and all of his guards. Once everyone knew that the king was dead, a lot of his supporters said that there was a chance that survived, but Dumbledore swore that he saw the body. He was the one to help set up the Ministry of Magic."

"Everyone wanted Dumbledore to became the Minister, but he let Fudge have the job. He's a total twit. My father loves him."

"I'll bet," Blaise said with a slight sneer. "He couldn't bribe the king to get want he wanted."

"So, now that the king's dead, what's happening?" Harry asked.

"Nothing much. Muggleborns and Halfbloods are hated, the charity program that you're in used to be funded by the king, but now people sneer at it since they don't what to had some strange kid that no one knows defiling their kids," Draco said.

"Great," Harry said glumly.

"Well, the students aren't much better," Blaise told Harry, "and they can do things that the teachers aren't allowed to."

"I'm feeling better by the minute," Harry said with sigh.

"Well, it depends on where you go," Draco added, "Hufflepuffs don't harass people…"

"Hufflepuffs don't do anything," Blaise muttered.

Draco sniggered.

"Yeah they do," Draco said with a smirk, "they get tormented by all the other houses."

"Thanks for saying I should be one, then," Harry muttered.

"Or, you'll be a Gryffindor," Blaise said.

"You said Gryffindors were terminally stupid," Harry pointed out.

"Or a Ravenclaw," Draco said.

"They don't do much of anything either other then plot," Blaise said, "The only houses that do anything are Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"And neither seem like they're going to accept me," Harry muttered, "Slytherins are Pureblood fanatics, and Gryffindors are too busy thinking about how wonderful they are."

"We aren't Pureblood fanatics in Slytherin," Draco said, "We're just…dedicated…"

"Fanatics," Harry repeated.

Blaise snorted.

"Well, whatever house you get into," Draco said, "it's not going to be easy for you. Before, people would have left you along because you might have been an heir. Harry is a name the Maraks would have used, but now…"

"You're what some would call 'fresh meat'," Blaise supplied.

"You guys are really making me feel better…" Harry said sarcastically.

"Just warning you," Draco said.

"So you are going to be me worst enemies at school?" Harry asked, he wanted to know who he could trust.

"I don't think so," Draco said, "I have issues with harassing people I helped earlier. It's a trait my father hates."

"Harassing people is boring," Blaise said, "unless they harassed me first."

-------

_Once again, a short chapter, but I have writer's block. I have no idea what to say, so I'm going to end it here and just update._

_If anyone has any suggestions, or criticisms, tell me. _


	4. Of Ravens and Trains

_Ok, here we go to the next chapter. I love alternate universes. Just to tell you, there will be no change in my plans because of the introduction of the seventh book. In a way, this is a totally different story, so don't expect too much to stay the same, especially in the area of character relationships._

_Once again, I don't own Harry Potter. _

_Thank you for reading my nonsense._

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The rest of the months passed in a completely uneventful way. Harry would get up, wonder around the alley for the day, go back, have dinner, and go to bed. It was becoming to routine that Harry was starting to become somewhat accustomed to the strange sights and sounds of Diagon Alley. The days seemed to go by in a blur of sound and movement. Harry didn't see Draco and Blaise again, though they had said that they would see him on the school train.

Most of the shops were about the same once Harry got used to the novelty of wondering around a magical alley, and although Harry saw plenty of people his own age, they were all with their parents. This had always made Harry feel uncomfortable, so he mostly kept to himself.

Things would have passed in a totally boring way if it hadn't been for what happened on the day before he had to leave for the train.

It was a cloudy day, and Harry had been wondering around aimlessly most of the morning. He had already received glares from the owner of Florish and Blots, so he knew that he wouldn't be able to loiter over there again, and the used supply store owner had been looking suspiciously at him for a while too. Harry sighed and looked around. There had to be something that he hadn't seen yet.

Diagon Alley seemed much smaller now that he had been there all month.

As he walked, he noticed something. A small, dingy back alley that branched off into a small side street and everyone seemed to be avoiding. Harry wondered over to the entrance and looked down it. There were what looked like some shops and one or two shady looking people leaning on the walls. Harry's instinct told him that this wasn't a good place for an eleven year old boy to wonder into, but his curiosity told him that this was just the place for an eleven year old boy to wonder into.

Harry was about to listen to his instinct and return to being bored when something caught his eye.

A black bird was flying as fast as it could down the street. Right behind it was a large, fierce looking eagle. The eagle was flying fast and it didn't look like the raven had a chance of making it.

Harry found himself reaching down for a small pebble on the ground and running to see if he could meet the two birds. No real plan had formed in his head, and his feet were almost moving on their own. It was strange, one part of his mind thought, how no one seemed to even notice the two birds. It was like they didn't even really exist. They weren't even looking at the eleven year old boy who was running down the street with a rock in his hand.

The two birds flew close. The raven appeared to be on its last leg. Harry saw a sort of desperation in the way that it was moving that showed that it was exhausted.

Harry threw the rock, badly. It missed the eagle by about a foot and hit the wall. The rock rebounded and hit the eagle on the back. With an angry screech, it veered in another direction. The raven landed on and ground and looked up a Harry. There was something strangely intelligent in those eyes. For a second Harry could have sworn that it was thinking about something.

It hopped away from him and then stopped, looking back to see what he was doing. When Harry didn't move, it flew back, hopped away, and looked back again. Harry blinked and started to walk forward. The bird was obviously leading him somewhere, but he had no clue where.

He had read a story about a little girl who had saved a raven. It had led her away from the place she was living in just in time for her to avoid getting killed in the avalanche that was about to destroy the place. Harry didn't believe the story, but he found himself thinking of it as he walked behind the bird.

The raven led him to a small, disserted side street and stopped. Harry looked around, wondering why in the world he had been led here. He turned back to look at the way he had come, but turned around again when he thought he heard something.

Where the raven had been, there was a woman.

She was somewhere between twenty and thirty years old and was wearing what looked like a black sundress. Her pure white hair hung straight almost to her knees, and her eyes looked red in the faint light. Two black wings arched from her back. Everything about her was completely inhuman, yet somehow, Harry had the feeling that she wasn't going to harm him.

She smiled.

"I wanted to express my gratitude in more then croaks," she said looking him over, her voice was calm, not hoarse or croaky the way he had thought that it would be.

She looked Harry over, seeming to be thinking about something.

"What is your name?" she asked him.

"…" for a moment, Harry couldn't say anything, "Harry Potter," he finally gasped out.

"Harry Potter," she said with a slight smile, "You may call me Kisara."

She leaned down and looked hard at Harry. Her eyes seemed to be burning into his, and Harry was starting to feel uncomfortable. She straightened again and smiled at him. He couldn't tell if the smile was friendly, amused, dangerous, or all of the above.

"I think I'll help you," Kisara said softly, "you have so many powers that have been locked away, but if I unlock them all right now, you won't survive it. I'll unlock one of them now, but no others. I'll unlock another next year, and so on. I think that and my watching over you while you're at that dismal school that Wizards go to should alleviate my debt…"

"What?" Harry asked.

"You don't know do you?" Kisara asked.

"Know what?"

"It's best not to know…yet…you're not powerful enough to fight," Kisara was looking thoughtful, "If you know now…you'll be expected to act…and it's not time yet. You're far too young to begin."

Harry didn't know what she was talking about but had the feeling that he should listen. Kisara motioned him closer, and Harry walked up, feeling like something was controlling his legs. Kisara put one hand on his forehead and traced the lightning shaped scar. Her eyes seemed to be glowing red.

"I see many paths that you could take, but only one of them will lead you to want you really want. The power that I unlock now will help you find your way through the lies that surround that school. I will give you this piece of advice: cultivate your friendships, and don't be prejudiced. Prejudice is the curse of the Wizards and will be your downfall. Not everyone is a copy of their parents, and if given a chance they will prove it too you. Don't let others tell you that you must succumb to destiny. Destiny is what you make it. Nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand, Harry?"

"I-I think so," Harry stuttered out.

"Good boy," Kisara whispered. "I'll be seeing you again…I'll make sure of that…"

And with a flurry of feathers, and a sudden harsh caw, a large raven flew up past the buildings and out of Harry's line of vision.

For a moment, Harry just stood there, dumbfounded by the idea that a raven had turned into a girl named Kisara who had promised to help him. He finally regained all of his mental powers and walked back to Diagon Alley. He was done exploring for the day…

"I saw you,"

Harry looked around for the speaker and noticed a tall red haired boy about his age glaring at him. Harry blinked, not understanding what the guy had said.

"What?" Harry asked, genuinely confused.

"I saw you," the boy repeated, "I saw you going into Knockturn Alley!"

"Knock-a-what?" Harry asked.

"Don't play innocent with me!" the boy yelled, "I know that you were buying Dark stuff down there!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're a Death Eater in training," the boy continued.

Harry knew what a Death Eater was, and that was not something that he was going to allow some guy to get away with calling him. He felt anger rising inside him. Yeah, he had wondered a little off the beaten path. Yeah, he had gotten a little curious, but that didn't make him Evil Incarnate.

Harry glared at the boy.

"I don't know who are you, and I really don't care. You have no right, or proof to be calling other people Death Eaters. If I wander down various alleys because I'm bored, it had nothing to do with you. In short: bog off."

Harry walked by him without another word. Somehow something was telling him that this wasn't the last time that he was going to see this boy. That same nagging feeling was saying that they were going to have a long, drawn out relationship no matter what he tried to do about it.

Kisara might have said that destiny was bunk, but some things were just inevitable.

--------

The rest of the summer passed without much of interest happening. Harry hung around Diagon Alley and didn't go into any more side streets. He didn't want everyone in the entire street to think that he was a Death Eater in the making.

It seemed like an eternity before it was September first, but finally, Harry found himself waiting for the bus to take him to King's Cross.

The station was huge and very crowded. Harry pushed his way through, looking for a sign for platform 9 ¾. He found platforms 9 and 10 without much trouble, but he didn't see anything other then the barrier between them. Harry pushed his trolley to the barrier and looked at it. There must be something that he wasn't getting. Harry sighed and leaned up against the barrier to think.

He nearly killed himself as he fell through.

"What the-" Harry groaned as he fall forward.

Somehow he managed to bring the trolley through and not crack his head open. Harry straightened and looked around.

The first thing that he noticed was that everyone was wearing robes. The next thing he saw was the sign above a train that said: Platform 9 ¾. The station was completely cut off from the rest of Kings Cross by the barrier that Harry had leaned through. On this side, it looked like an archway. As he watched two identical boys with red hair walked through in unison. Harry watched to two walk to the train, and followed, lugging his trunk along with him.

He shoved the trunk of the stairs of the train and looked around the hallway. Almost all of the compartments looked full, Harry signed and started to push the trunk along to the back of the train.

"Hello, Potter," a voice said from behind him.

Harry looked up to see Draco flanked on either side by the biggest eleven-year-olds he had ever seen. The two even made Dudley Dursley look like a small boy. The impression on Harry had something to do with two thugs who would do whatever there boss told them to. Draco nodded at the truck, and one of the gorilla like boys leaned down and picked it up.

"Come on," Draco said, "I already have a compartment."

Harry followed Draco to the back of the train into one of the many compartments. The two monsters stopped and stood on either side of the door.

"So," Harry said as they shut the door, "Do you keep those two around for their conversation or what?"

Draco was silent for about three seconds, then burst out laughing. It was strange to see Draco who, in Harry's brief acquaintance, didn't seem like the kind of person who showed his emotions easily laughing so hard that tears were falling out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he gasped out at last, "I've just never heard anyone with the guts to insult them."

"It's easy to insult them now," Harry said, "I have a glass wall between us."

Draco seemed to find that immensely funny.

"To answer you question," Draco said after a moment, "Crabbe and Goyle's fathers work for mine, so they were told to do what I wanted."

"So you have minions?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded.

Harry stared at him.

"What?"

They both sat down on opposite sides of the compartment and didn't say anything for a few minutes. Harry was confused as to why Draco has invited him to his compartment, but he had a feeling that he was bored and didn't want to hang around the two monsters. It was understandable, but Harry had thought that Draco was going to avoid him because of his family.

The door opened, and Blaise Zabini walked in. He stopped and looked at the two, but shrugged, sat down, took out a book, and started to read without a word.

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" Draco asked.

"Not on a train," Blaise muttered.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Is there a reason why you're here?" He asked.

"Well, originally I thought that you two wouldn't ask too many stupid questions, but now it's more that I'm here anyways, so I might as well stay here."

"What house are you shooting for, Blaise," Harry asked, trying to change the subject.

"Ravenclaw," Blaise said, "I don't want to be involved in any real action. I just want to sit back and get everything to come my way."

"I'm going to be in Slytherin," Draco said in a bored tone, "If I don't, my father will murder me."

"I want to see you in Gryffindor, Draco," Blaise said with a smirk, "It would be amusing to see the reactions."

"What? The other Gryffindors murdering me or my father marching down to Hogwarts to demand that I be put in Slytherin and that the thing that sorted me be put out of it's misery?"

"You know," Blaise said thoughtfully, "I really can't decide…"

"I think I want to see his father march from london to…where ever Hogwarts is on foot," Harry said thoughtfully, "It's a really long way…"

Before there could be any further conversation, the door crashed open, and a girl darted into the room, and somehow managed to duck down under the window. There a sound of running footsteps and another girl, with violently pink hair ran down the corridor.

"Was that Pansy?" Draco asked blankly.

"Looked like her," Blaise said just as blankly.

The girl stood up and smiled brightly.

"Hello, my name is Robin Goodfellow," she said cheerfully.

She was the most boring looking person that Harry had ever seen in his life. Her lank, mousey hair was cut short, hanging past to her chin, and her brown eyes were somewhat too large for her face. Everything about her seemed to have a washed out look.

"You're not serious," Harry said, "Someone named their kid Robin Goodfellow?"

Her eyes widened.

"You got the joke!" she said happily, "Call me Puck!"

"It would have been hard not too," Harry muttered.

"What was Pansy doing with pink hair?" Draco asked.

"At this stage of our relationship, let's assume that I have no past history whatsoever," Puck said with a nervous grin.

_------- _

_Thank you for being so patient with this story. I've had a lot on my mind lately, my mom had surgery and…well, you probably don't care._

_On all of my orginal characters: I will not pair them with any canon main characters. This is a promise._

_On Robin Goodfellow's name: the name Robin Goodfellow is one of the two names of the trickster, Puck, who appears in English folklore and Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. Puck is famous for his pranks on people._

_If you have any questions or comments please tell me in the reviews, I'll be happy to read them!_


	5. Of the Chosen One

_Here I am again. I'm going to update this one twice in a row because no one really seems all that interested in my other story. Doesn't matter, this ones doing better then I had thought. I'm sorry that my updates are a little on the slow side. I have school work, an active guild on Gaiaonline, and I have an original that I'm working on._

_Thanks for your patience._

_I have no claim to Harry Potter series or any of its characters._

_------- _

"So, what house do you want, Puck," Harry asked after sitting in silence for a while.

"Hufflepuff," Puck said with a bright grin.

"What?" Draco asked in disgust, "Hufflepuff?"

"Yeah, you know why?" Puck narrowed her eyes and giggled, "I could do acts of unspeakable evil and no one would ever suspect me because I'm a sweet, innocent little Hufflepuff. Everyone knows that Hufflepuffs are a bunch of boring little do-gooders, so who would think I did it?"

"Anyone who knows your family," Blaise muttered.

Before Puck could say anything further, the door of the compartment slid open to reveal and plumb, smiling older woman pushing a cart full of various types of sweets.

"Anything off the cart, dears?" she asked them.

It appeared that Draco, Blaise, and Puck wanted everything off the cart. They bought enough Pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs, and every flavor beans to feed a small army let alone four children (they seemed to have no problem with sharing with Harry).

They had some fun with the Berty Bott's Every Flavor Beans. When Harry first bit into one, he gagged and started to spit.

"What is it?" Blaise asked.

"Ack, ich tashtes like soup," Harry said, still spitting.

"Too bad," Draco said, biting into a green one and gagging, "Pond scum."

"Why do you eat this stuff," Harry asked in disgust.

"We're bored," Blaise said taking a bite of a green one with red spots.

Blaise's eyes crossed and he started to spit as hard as he could. Grabbing one of the containers of pumpkin juice, he started to guzzle the thing down as fast as he could

"What was it?" Puck asked, looking curious.

"I have no idea," Blaise said, his voice was slightly breathless, "It was so hot I though my mouth was going to combust."

Puck blinked and nibbled on a brown one. Her eyes got a funny, glazed look and she sort of shivered.

"What is it?" Harry said, not quite sure what to expect.

"Hair," Puck said, "Burnt hair,"

"Nice," Blaise muttered.

"That's it," Harry said, "I'm going to the chocolate frogs…they aren't real…are they?"

Harry was starting to think that nothing would surprise him anymore.

"Nope, just chocolate," Draco said, "But they have famous Witch and Wizard cards that go with them that you can collect."

"That sounds safe…" Harry said with a bit of a sigh.

"Yeah, it is," Blaise told him, "There used to be a spell on them so that they'd jump around a little, but they stopped that. Some people started to complain that it was slightly disgusting to eat a candy that squirmed and acted like it was alive until they bit it's head off."

"No wonder," Harry muttered.

"I found one of those once," Puck said, "It was the most freaky thing I've even done to bite something that felt alive."

"Then why did you bite it?" Draco asked.

"I didn't have anything else to do,"

"Ah,"

The sliding glass door opened again to show a very upset looking round face, mousy hair boy about their age. He was looking around for something and finally he noticed that everyone was staring at him. He flushed slightly and looked embarrassed.

"Um, have any of you seen a toad?" he asked nervously.

"No…"

"I've lost him," the boy sobbed slightly.

"If I had a toad, I'd lose it," Draco muttered under his breath.

"Did you…check your pocket?" Blaise asked, looking somewhat confused.

The boy blinked and reached into his pocket, drawing out one large, fat, annoyed looked toad.

"Trevor!" the boy sad happily, "Thanks!"

He shut the door a little too loud and was gone.

"You know, Draco, you're security stinks," Blaise said, watching the boy go.

"They're good for real threats," Draco said with a shrug, or at least what they think of as real threats. I guess they don't see a little girl or a kid who gives out I'm-helpless-so-come-pick-on-me vibes as worth the trouble.

"I'm not sure, but I think that I'm offended," Puck said thoughtfully.

"Don't be," Blaise muttered, "He's simply stating fact."

"Now, I know I'm offended," Puck said glaring at Blaise.

The lights in the compartment flickered on as the evening approached.

Harry watched all of this with a smile far-off smile on his face. It was nice to be surrounded by people. He had never really had people to talk with when he was younger and it was nice not be so alone. Watching Blaise and Puck fighting and Draco watching with a smirk on his face was really one of them most fun things that he had ever had happen to him. Harry amused himself with a brief mental image of what would happen if Dudley and his gang tried to bully him with these guys around. Even though Harry wasn't dumb enough to really call them 'friends', he had a pretty good idea that they wouldn't let Dudley try to pound him into the ground with them around either.

It was a nice thought.

"Hey, Harry," Draco said, "I hope that you studied. The teachers love to tear apart Muggleborns on the fact that their stupid.

"What!" Harry said, immediately dug into his bag and took out a book. He immediately became engrossed into it and wouldn't even answer and questions let alone look up.

"Well, there goes Potter," Blaise said, taking out his own book, "I suggest following his example."

Draco gave both Harry and Blaise a completely disgusted look, and reluctantly began reading a book of curses. Puck looked completely disappointed and looked like she was getting ready to leave, but the door opened again.

"Maybe we should start a toll booth," Blaise suggested.

"Hello," a girl with very bushy brown hair and prominent front teeth said pushing the door open the rest of the way, "I'm Hermione Granger, sorry to interrupt you, but I saw that you were the only ones studying, and I thought that I should tell you that I was just up with the conductor and he said that we're going to be arriving soon, so you might want to change into your robes."

She was looking at Harry when she said this, as he was the only one in Muggle clothing. All the others were fully in their robes, and Harry doubted that Draco and Blaise ever wore anything besides them. He wasn't too sure about Puck, from what he had been hearing about he through the conversation, she was unpredictable.

From something that Blaise had snidely muttered, her parents were unofficially banned from all Wizarding Circles in England because of their pranks. Puck seemed to come from a long line of troublemaking Wizards, and she was proud of it.

"Uh, thanks," Harry said, not quite sure what to say to her.

"It's no trouble!" Hermione said, bustling out again.

As she left there was a moment of silence. Then

"You know…I like her," Blaise said with a smirk, "I'll have fun with her in Ravenclaw."

"You sure she's going to be in Ravenclaw?" Puck asked.

"I think so," Blaise said with a nod, "Se doesn't look like anything else."

"Have fun," Draco said, "She sounds boring."

Harry rushed off into the bathroom to change his robes. On the way back, he noticed a familiar face glaring at him. Harry decided that it would be a good idea to avoid the clueless redhead, since people like him really were better off avoided, but the guy didn't seem to want to give Harry that option.

"Hey! Death Eater in training!" the guy yelled out.

Harry kept walking.

"I just wanted to ask you if you'd met you're fellow flunkies yet," He continued, "After all, you're going to be in Slytherin, where all Death Eaters go."

_Liar_

Harry blinked and looked around. He could have sworn that he had heard someone say 'liar'. The guy must have thought that Harry was stopping because of him since he continued.

"And when I'm in Gryffindor, and fulfill my destiny as the Chosen One, you're going to get it with the rest of the Death Eaters," he continued.

Harry turned around.

"Only a fool makes his own enemies," He said.

"What does that mean!" the guy yelled.

"It mean's you're stupid."

And with that, Harry came back to the compartment and sat down. No one looked up as he came back, Puck was playing with something that looked suspiciously like a stink bomb, and Draco was trying to get Blaise to play a game of chess with him. Blaise didn't seem to keen on the idea.

"Come on, Blaise, it won't be too humiliating," Draco was saying.

"The way you play chess? I think I want to keep my ego in tact until we reach the school," Blaise told him.

Draco turned to Harry, "What about you?"

"What about me?" Harry asked.

"Why don't we play a friendly game of chess," Draco said amiably, "We have a little while to wait until the train gets there."

Harry looked at Blaise, who was sitting behind Draco. Blaise gave his a look that said plainly: your funeral.

"Um, before we do that…" Harry said, "Answer me one question: Some guy said the was the 'Chosen One'. What was he talking about?"

"Did he had red hair?" Puck asked.

"Yeah,"

"That was Ron Weasley," Blaise said, "When he was born, some seer went into a trance and said that he would grow up to save the Wizarding world. He's from a poor family that everyone used to ignore, but since Ron's birth, no one really wants to cross them, unless their name is Lucius Malfoy."

"Father hates the Weasleys," Draco supplied, but didn't seem to feel the need to elaborate, "So, he's one your tail now? Well it could be worse…"

_Liar_.

Harry looked around again.

"Did you hear something?" Harry asked.

"No," the others said.

Harry shook his head. Maybe all this magic was getting to him.

"Well, it couldn't be worse," Draco admitted. "You're going to be either a Hufflepuff or a Gryffindor, and both houses are made up of his followers. You're going to have a rough school life."

"Thanks, you guys are really making me feel better," Harry said with a sigh.

There was a sound of the brakes being applied, and the train began to slide to a halt. Harry stood up, and Draco put away his chess set, looking disappointed.

"Well, let's go," Draco said.

"To whatever fate awaits us," Puck said cheerfully, "Hope you don't get slaughtered by Weasley, Harry."

"Look on the bright side," Blaise said, obviously thinking that he was being helpful. It will be at least one year until he learns any curses worth worrying about."

-------

_And that's the end. Sorry that it's so short, but I've had so many things to do. _

_Next Chapter: Of Sortings_

_Additional Contests: The person who can guess where the quote 'it means you're stupid' comes from will not only be commemorated in the next chapter, but if they make a suggestion for the story's plot, may find it incorporated into this story._

_Thank you for your time, and please review! _


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